It’s strange having to knock.
“You’re early,” Caroline says, clearly displeased. “I’ll take that.”
His ex-wife relieves him of his boxed burden—pink Heelys, size seven, bought from the sporting goods store for $79.95. Kiley knows it’s what she’s getting from him. She dictated what she wanted to Caroline, who then dictated it to Dick. He’d wrapped them anyway.
Taped to the top is the card. He settled on the teddy bear—too unsure to give her the other one. The front of the card reads, “To my daughter on her birthday.” Inside, “You’re a beautiful sight and stuffed just right.” He signed it, “Love, Dad.”
He follows Caroline through his living room and his kitchen to his backyard. Kiley is on the trampoline with Jim. Dick smiles and waves, uncertain as he always is around his kids, a strange feeling made stranger by knowing other men don’t feel this way. His kids are the most important thing in the world to him, the thing he works for and would die for, yet constantly they baffle and terrify him. He’s felt it since they were born, enamored and panicked at once.
Kiley ignores him, while Jim gives a slight nod.
“Hello, Dick. Can I get you a drink?” The meaty palm of Pete, Caroline’s new husband, extends toward him. Pete is the same height as Dick, an inch or two over six feet, but that’s where the similarities end. Pete is thick; Dick is thin. Pete is ruddy and covered in hair—head, face, forearms, tufts sticking out of his collar at his chest. Dick is fair and still unable to grow a full beard. Pete is a plumber. Dick is a chemist.
“Thanks, Pete, but I think I still remember where the beers are.”
In the kitchen, he finds Caroline pouring small carrots from a plastic bag onto a plate. She looks good, her dark hair freshly dyed and her face made up with eyeliner and lipstick. She’s kept off most of the weight she lost for her wedding two months ago and looks happier than she did when they were married.
He grabs a Heineken from the fridge and, ignoring her peeved look, retrieves the bottle opener from the top drawer beside the sink. He pops off the cap, then, knowing it will irritate her even more, sets the cap and opener on the spotless counter.
She opens her mouth to snap at him but, saved by the bell, the door chime interrupts. He smirks, and she sneers, then hurries off to greet the guests.
Dick takes a long swig and returns outside.
Three beers and one cold slice of Domino’s pizza later, the party is over. The gifts have been opened and the wrapping paper and empty boxes cast aside. Kneeling, he retrieves his unopened card from beneath the wrought-iron patio set he and Caroline picked out a decade ago.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he says, handing Kiley the lavender envelope and giving her a peck on her dark curls.
She groans and shifts away. He leaves her and crosses the yard to Jim, who is again on the trampoline. “Hey, buddy, I’m going to take off. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Then say it,” Jim says, playing up his insolence for his friends.
Dick stands awkwardly a moment before giving a thin smile along with half a wave. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone else.
* * *
He gets to his apartment a little after eight, sighs at the television, then marches back out the door. The rest of the evening is spent drinking beer and watching the Angels play the Padres at the bar down the street.
Near midnight, almost drunk enough to be numb, he returns. He pulls his phone from his pocket to change for bed, surprised to see the voicemail symbol lit up.
“Dick, how could you?” Caroline’s voice squawks.
He shakes his head and slumps to sit on the mattress.
“What kind of a cruel card is that to give your daughter?”
Cruel?
“‘Stuffed just right’!” she shrieks. “Kiley hasn’t stopped crying since you left. It’s not her fault she’s overweight. I wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave you. I certainly wouldn’t—”
Dick taps the screen, cutting off the rant, then drops his elbows to his knees and his face to his hands. He rubs his sockets as if trying to erase the day, then without bothering to change, crawls beneath the covers and falls into drunken sleep, visions of teddy bears and gray concrete swirling in his mind.